Notes From Here And A Place Beyond
by KhemRocks
Summary: SPOILERS! "He ruled over a nation, yet would kneel in the dust whenever she needed someone to practice that new spell on." A series of short insights into the pharaoh and his companions in ancient Egypt and their Afterlife.


**Notes From A Place Here and Beyond**

**Summary: **SPOILERS! A series of short insights into the pharaoh and his companions in ancient Egypt and their Afterlife. Mostly Mana and Atem. Meant as friendship, hints of vaseshipping, feel free to interpret them how you want.

**Disclaimer: **Recognizable characters still property of Kazuki Takahashi and affiliated, make no profit, etc etc.

**Because I Know You**

Sitting in the Great Hall for dinner but paying far more attention to their newest arrival than anything else, Mana wondered if anyone else other than she and Mahaad knew Atem so well that they knew that at that moment he saw only his old friends, seeing the ghosts of two teenage boys play fighting, a girl thwapping them over the head, while a smaller boy watched them with kind eyes and a smile that was currently missing from her friend's face as clearly as she could see his downcast profile and faraway gaze.

**Like Two Different Worlds**

Mana had known him so long, she never really stopped to consider the oddity of how her childhood friend was revered, called a living god, bowed to wherever he went, and yet would crouch opposite her with a kind of dignified obedience whenever she needed someone to practice spells on, giving only a slight smile as he knelt in the dust, gracefully smoothing fine robes over his knees.

**The Last We Met**

When he had first walked through those doors of glowing white, to be reunited with them at last, his smile was full of genuine warmth, and he had clasped their hands, even embraced them, but there was something deep in his eyes, and it was only later that Mahaad would realize, from the unique perspective of his own previous unusual afterlife, that that strange distance was due to the fact that while they had awaited his return for millennia, the last time Atem had seen them, his friends and priests, was a short time ago in the Memory World, when they had died for him in his arms.

**A Spell of Trouble**

As she gripped her smoking staff in one hand and watched the foul-smelling gloop drip from the walls, ceiling and Mahaad's headdress, Mana knew she was in for it, and she grumbled as she was made to copy difficult text and help scrub the room clean without magic. She would never have guessed that Priest Seto's words would strengthen the bond she had with her Master and his rival in the Inner Circle of the Pharaoh's Court, but when she heard him grumble that he would have thrown the "inept girl" out long ago, she thought of how Mahaad had given her a goblet of wine when she had finished scrubbing and told her to come back tomorrow and realized how lucky she was to have someone like him in her life.

**Taking Up Your Time**

It became a kind of legend among the foreign ambassadors from the lands of the Mitanni and Hittites that when they took longer than expected in giving tribute to the young Pharaoh of Khemet or attending his meetings on foreign diplomacy, they would feel a glare boring into their backs as they left, and would sometimes turn just in time to catch a young woman with brown hair being accosted by a tall man they recognized as a member of the Pharaoh's inner circle, or even hear her indignant cries of "But I haven't seen him _at all_ yet today, Master Mahaad!" as she was pulled away.

**Not So Different**

Mana knew that when they saw her and Atem playing, a lot of the courtiers would look down on her. She would hear their outraged murmurs that someone of _her_ status would be so bold with the Living Horus when they thought she couldn't hear them, and would think back to when they were younger and more naïve, when she would consider herself and the prince equals on the grounds that he set her clothes chest on fire and they'd have to yell for Mahaad or the nearest servant again whenever he tried to wield her staff, and she would blush just the same as she apologised for giving him an impromptu haircut with her inexpert wild swings of the sword he was trying to teach her with.

**Where You Would Go**

Atem, true to form, would often storm away when he was really angry or upset, a thankfully rare occurrence nowadays: they were technically in paradise, after all. Mahaad wondered if it was a throwback to his former role as pharaoh, when he was taught to be guarded when it came to expressing his emotions. The magician knew just how long to wait before going after him, sandalled feet walking the route as if by rote until he saw the back of that distinctive head of hair. Despite his concern he would smile when a deep voice would sigh and turn slightly at the touch of the hand on his shoulder, and wryly remark "yes, it is rather hard to go off and hide when your companions remember where you would go better than you do, isn't it?"

**A Kind of Jealousy**

She knew that he had not loved her in that sense, and so Mana could never quite explain the stab of emotion she felt whenever he would wonder aloud how Tea's dancing career was going, smile as he recalled her stopping Joey and Tristan fighting, or relate with a soft voice and fond smile how she had stuck by him even after his greatest mistake, when even he had believed he would be lost to his despair, his gaze fixed on the floor seeing in his memories the tracks of a railway instead of the beautiful tiled floor they were sitting on. Then she would push the feeling away as she realized that she had always really believed in Atem, too, and that the role of faithful, adoring friend had been returned to her once again.

**Matters of the Kilt Kind**

"Isis?" a deep voice enquired from around the door to Atem's room, where she had just been about to walk past. She turned to see overlarge violet eyes and the hint of blonde bangs peering around at her, and she drew nearer to him, struck by the look of bewliderment and was that pleading? on his face.

"Could you, ah, help me with something?" Yes, his face was definitely quite red now, and she hid a smile as she stepped into his private chambers where they had more of the privacy he was evidently craving, her eyebrows raising as she noticed that he was clutching his undone kilt closed at his side with one clenched fist. They raised even more when she saw that he was gesturing to the bunched cloth with his free hand. "Mana usually helps me, but she's busy and not here and I can't really take care of it myself..."

"Take...care of it yourself?" Isis faintly repeated, her thoughts spinning, embarassment and shock at what he could be asking her to do warring with the apparent revelation of his relationship with the spellcaster. Mana had never shared _this_ gossip with her, that was for sure! She knew that Atem had been a pharaoh, but he had never been so forward with these matters in his previous life to her knowledge, and if he was going around asking for that kind of help from any woman who walked by...!

"Yes, I find it tricky sometimes, I was a bit stuck my first morning after arriving here and Mana helped me. Isis, are you feeling alright? You've gone rather pale. Would you like to sit?"

This was getting worse by the moment, was Isis's next faint thought. She was sure that, despite being technically dead, that all her blood had gone to her face. She decided to just ask him straight out. "Ah, yes...no, sorry, what exactly did you want help with?"

"Doing this kilt up. I'm sorry, I can hold it closed, but I'm still not fully used to them again, after the trousers...you wrap it around, and then…?"

Isis really felt like fainting now, but out of relief. He was just the same as ever, since they had been alive: a genius on the battlefield, clueless with other things. She could now more fully appreciate the humour of the embarassment in his deep, regal voice, trying and largely failing to remain as dignified as possible, as she reached forward to help.

**What Means the Most**

He would give his armies inspiring speeches and tactically brilliant strategies, under his commands great monuments were raised to the gods, people were organised, treaties were drawn up, but to Mana these things were political and boring, and somehow it meant far more to her how he would endure sitting on his throne listening to petitions and the odd looks of the courtiers with bright green hair and yellow spots on his skin due to another of her spells gone awry, and afterwards would only smile from where he sat while Mahaad reversed it, and just tell her he knew she would do better next time.


End file.
